


Summer in the city (means cleavage, cleavage, cleavage)

by feyrelay



Series: DIEU (Daddy Issues Extended Universe) [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Age of Consent, Casual Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, F/F, First Time, M/M, Michelle is 17, Mommy Kink, POV Female Character, Praise Kink, Sex Work, Threesome - F/F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 01:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17633831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyrelay/pseuds/feyrelay
Summary: A three-part standalone excerpted from the background plot ofI know that you got daddy issues (and I do too).In which MJ, left in the city while Peter and Ned go gallivanting across Europe so Peter can get over his crush on his mentor, ends up having a bit of a transformative experience with everyone's favorite hot aunt and bad-ass CEO.Yes, in a gay way. (Michelle is 17).





	Summer in the city (means cleavage, cleavage, cleavage)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic, of course, has a playlist: https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLE9IZM-jHkM-NU8UIJ4b_kx4puIcVQpJ8

Peter does her a solid and takes her slot for the Europe trip, which saves MJ the headache of having to trek around Europe with a rudderless Ned, learning about old, dead, white dudes and ignoring the pagan roots of everything around them. She’d wanted to go, to get out of the city, at first; then, she’d seen on the itinerary that they planned to cover Paris in four days with no mention of the Gauls or other tribes that had settled there long before the Romans stepped foot on anything north of Tuscany.

Besides, that boy needs to get away from Stark for a few weeks, and everyone knows it.

MJ’s parents did her a second solid and told her that since she had been able to smart-mouth her way into getting a full refund for the trip deposit (having found her own slot-replacement in Peter), then she could keep the money and spend it however she wanted this summer. They were proud of her for making friends, they said, even though both of those said friends would now be across the pond without her. Her mother, in particular, was encouraging MJ to go out and make some _more_ friends this summer (“maybe even some female ones?”).

Yeah, no. MJ likes girls and women. She likes them so much she doesn’t just wanna be _friends_.

Anyway, her folks let her deposit the trip refund check into her own account and MJ likes the way the numbers look when she checks her balance on her phone. She _really_ likes it. Her and Ned and Peter share a comraderie born of shared financial background, although she’s pretty sure her parents make more than Ned’s do. Peter’s aunt makes the least, working for that literary collective, but it’s a kickass job in MJ’s opinion and Peter seems fine with it. The point is, none of them ever have any extra money, not after trying to keep up with all the projects and ‘enrichment’ activities their extra-ass school sets up.

Kids like Flash never even have to think about whether they can afford to go on the class field trip or not, whether they can splurge on the best materials for their science fair projects, whether they can sign-up for this extracurricular or not (depending on how much the uniform is gonna be…). It’s not that MJ’s parents wouldn’t give her the money, or anything; they totally would. They would, even if they didn’t have it, and so would Ned’s mom and so would Peter’s aunt. That’s the problem.

So this, this sudden _extra_. It’s… nice. She really wants to get some stuff for her altar, because she’s just about burnt through her silver and gold pillar candles, and she’s completely out of both incense and ritual salt. Also, MJ thinks she ought to get Gwen something nice. The blonde girl puts up with MJ always telling her about Ned and Peter even though a) Gwen isn’t really close friends with the boys, and b) Gwen had had a huge crush on Peter for years, until he suddenly got all buff, and she still doesn’t know quite how to take the new-and-improved Peter Parker.

MJ doesn’t have the heart to tell her it all came from a spider bite. Besides, the little, jealous part of her mind wants Gwen’s attention to stay on her. She has such a weakness for blondes, though their relationship has stalled out a bit since the Valentine’s dance. They’ve kissed but that’s about it, because Gwen’s the type who wants to lay back and think of Malibu, and have her body worshipped. She wants to be taken care of by someone with experience and confidence.

The only problem is… MJ’s confidence in everyday life and her sexual confidence haven’t really caught up with each other. Also, maybe. Maybe. Maybe _she’d_ like to be taken care of a bit? You know… see how it feels?

Gwen Stacy is used to being an object of desire and affection, with her long blonde hair and sparkly eyes and quick wit to go along with that flash-in-the-pan smile. MJ is not. I mean, she thinks of herself as awesome AF, but not everyone is into the kinky curls or the tone of her skin or the snark that falls, helplessly and inexorably, from her mouth.

She’s been told she’s abrasive. She’s been told she’s a lot of words she doesn’t agree with. (But, not agreeing with them doesn’t always soothe the sting.)

It would be nice, MJ thinks, to have a little bit _more_ money to play with, and get something really nice for Gwen, something the other girl wouldn’t think MJ capable of in a thousand years. She doesn’t really want to get a whole-ass _job_ though, not when it would have to be just for the summer.

But, it all comes back to the same problem. No one wants to hire someone who looks and talks like her, especially not for short-term gigs which are so hard-fought and hard-won to get in summertime.

\---

She’s on Snapchat when she sees it. MJ has really been liking the new proximity feature, where you can either a) set public snaps to appear to you depending on your geographic proximity to the user, or b) set public snaps to appear based on how many degrees of separation are between your social network and theirs. She’s got hers set down to two degrees because, honestly, ain’t nobody got time for any more than that.

The snap comes through under the proximity heading, so it’s either someone she kind of knows or someone that lives near her, or both. That’s not what’s got her intrigued, though. She watches it on loop, grateful that Snapchat will finally let her do that.

In the video, it’s two women, shown from the collarbones down only. They’re sitting on a bed, and their legs are tangled. They both have long hair, one strawberry blonde and the other a rich, dark auburn.

They’re clearly kissing, for a moment, and then one speaks, haltingly, but with authority all the same. “Hi there, um. I’ve heard this is something you can do on Snapchat. My… partner and I would like to have some fun, of the consenting nature, with another woman. We’re both women, but my sweet girl here is shy and I thought we’d get a professional to show her the ropes. Snap back at us, if you dare to. No men and no minors, please,” and then there’s a nervous sort of giggle from the woman who hasn’t yet spoken, before the first woman finishes with, “... and you can arrange details and safety, through me. Thank you!”

And that’s it.

It should shock her, but it doesn’t. MJ has spent her whole life being _other_ , being too smart for her own good (a.k.a. smarter than others would like her to be), and she knows spaces like Snapchat and other online/social media forums often host content that isn’t exactly family friendly. She has absolutely no problem with that, because it’s on those _families_ to police themselves. ( _Parent your own goddamn kids_ , she thinks.)

The whole world isn’t meant to be a freakin’ McDonald’s PlayPlace.

What shocks her, though? What really chills her to the bone?

That’s Peter’s Aunt May’s bedroom, in the video. And that was Pepper freakin’ Potts speaking.

\---

It takes her hours, literally _hours_ , to shower and trim and shave and pluck and exfoliate and lotion and oil and style herself. She wants to look _perfect_. MJ opts for the barest hint of makeup, though, because she hasn’t decided yet if she should show her face. Probably not, she thinks, because May Parker would have a conniption.

She picks out a strand of grey-violet pearls and a matching bracelet to wear and then builds an outfit around that. She wants to look innocent, but available. MJ wants to be doe-like and crushable. Huntable. Prey.

In the end, it’s not that she wants to be victimized, far from it. But there’s some synergy there, some wire in her brain that has laid itself down across the railroad tracks of another wire until the two are doomed to remain forever crossed. Well. They are, at least, until her train comes through.

Or maybe that’s not quite the right metaphor. Maybe she’ll feel this way until… until her ship comes in? Because that’s what this is, she reminds herself. It’s a payday.

She slips into the pale pink, transparently-woven lingerie to take her snaps and photos. The color is barely there -- almost white. The set is a modest camisole paired with tiny, tuliped shorts in a silky fabric. The modesty, she thinks, entices more because less is uncovered.

She knows she probably won’t get chosen, regardless. The snap had said, explicitly, ‘no minors’. But, well, she’s _not_ a minor. Not really. She’s seventeen. (She knows that won’t hold water, but she’d hate herself for not trying.)

How can she explain to the CEO of Stark Industries and (one of) her best friend’s aunt that this is what she wants and needs out of this summer. How do you make someone else understand what it’s like to not feel _seen_ , on a daily fucking basis, much less _desired_?

May would understand about the money thing, she thinks, but she knows their mutual connection to Peter will be the bottleneck.

Like Peter’s not off gallivanting around London right now trying to forget about a man three decades his senior.

It’s not fucking _fair_ , and oh, she hates how childish that thought sounds in her ears, how it rings through her mind and mocks her.

She takes the pictures and the snap and hits send, just to make the noise stop.

\---

MJ’s shock finally catches up with her when she gets a snap in return, the next day. It’s just Pepper, no May, and MJ gets a glimpse of long, blonde locks spilling over the strap of a camisole before she hears a quiet voice say, “How much?” and then a tinkling laugh before, “And, I _really_ should have asked this first, how old are you, princess?”

There’s also a chat request, so they can be acquaintances and communicate more effectively.

MJ isn’t in the mood to put her lingerie back on, so she chats back:

**I’m seventeen.**

**Um… How long do you need me for?**

 

She waits for a reply, which takes longer than she’d expected. (Maybe Pepper had wanted to check with May, first?)

But then, after a few hours:

 

**Just for the night, princess. You don’t**

**even have to stay; I can make sure you**

**get home before your carriage turns**

**back into a pumpkin.**

 

**Alright, then. My price is**

**5k because there’s two of you**

**and I’ve never done this before.**

 

As soon as she hits send, she thinks, _Shit. Should I have told her that? Also, no one's gonna shell out that much for me._

She’s wrong, though. The reply comes through near-immediately.

 

**Alright, pretty. $2,500 before and then**

**$2,500 after? No money changes hands**

**until we have three sets of matching**

**STD tests, as well. Protect yourself,**

**babygirl. You’re worth it.**

 

Oh, god. MJ is _so_ out of her league. She sends a response and signs on the proverbial dotted line. Then, she spends the rest of her subway ride trying to keep her hands from shaking.

\---

They go through some more negotiations, including a lecture several snaps long about the importance of regular STD testing. MJ argues back that she’s a lesbian and a virgin, which is just about the lowest risk you could possibly be, but that doesn’t sway Pepper.

To be honest, though, the thing she is most nervous about is them recognizing her. It’s not really fair, is it? For her to know their identities, just by virtue of having been to Peter’s home so many times and seeing that godawful bedspread so frequently?

It takes some positive self-talk and some steeling of her nerves, but MJ makes the adult choice and gets dolled up to send a snap of her face. She thinks of the way Pepper has been so careful of her consent; she had even let MJ know that, if she needed help with anything and wouldn’t be offended by the offer, the older woman would be happy to send her some money for her lovely posed Snapchats, to help her out, and call it even. She’d said to MJ, over and over, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, princess.”

And, _fuck_ , but didn’t that just make MJ want to do it all the more.

She doesn’t get a snap back after she sends her face reveal, but she does get a chat with the address for a fancy hotel.

 

**50 Central Park S, 10pm. I’d**

**send a car, but that wouldn’t**

**be very safe for you to get in**

**one, would it? Be smart and**

**dress comfortably for Mommy,**

**now, won’t you, Michelle?**

 

Oh god, oh god, oh good giddily God and Goddess above. Okay, breathe. MJ finishes getting ready and then calls the Uber. She forgoes the lingerie this time, thinking that must be what Pepper meant about dressing comfortably. She goes for a silky but simple white dress that feels good against her skin, and some sensible shoes. She shrugs a knee-length black sweater that belts at the waist over the whole thing and piles into the back of her ride.

She barely has the presence of mind to text back:

 

**Yes. See you soon.**

  

By the time the Uber pulls up in front of the grand hotel, she’s calmed some. She made this decision as an adult. She’s above the age of consent. Sex work is technically illegal, but she thinks that’s immoral, naive, and limiting to the sexual freedoms of the populace.

Yeah, she’s really gonna die on this hill, huh?

She’s really out here living the revolution. Fuck. MJ is suddenly very glad she hasn’t eaten much today. She wonders, apropos of nothing, what Peter is doing right now. She hopes he never finds out she tried to screw his aunt.

Why couldn’t she have had her Resist! moment while trying to seize the means of production or something useful, instead of trying to get paid for getting off? She feels, frankly, ridiculous.

But also, Peter’s aunt has always been hot. And, she kind of really _really_ wants to kiss the famed CEO of Stark Industries. Just once, and then she can die happy. (Please?)

There’s nothing to be worried about, anyway, because they’re going to take one look at her and turn her away. Her phone buzzes in her pocket:

**Room 212, by the way. As**

**you can see, I’m a little**

**nervous, too. I don’t do**

**this all the time, either.**

 

And that makes MJ feel a bit better, it does. She’s not sure she’d want to do this with someone who was intimately _familiar_ with the whole process.

It’s gonna be fine.

(It’s gonna be _fine_.)

\---

It turns out, the first thing they do is talk. A _lot_.

She should have figured that one out, honestly; she’s seen _The L Word_. MJ knows how this goes. But, yeah, first thing they tackle is How We’re All Feeling.

Pepper has a freakin’ PowerPoint.

They reiterate her age (May checks her license, bless her). They reiterate the price and that since May knows her, Pepper is willing to give her the money now, no strings attached, and she can walk away (she doesn’t). They look at the STD paperwork again. None of it is very sexy.

But.

Pepper’s voice flows over the whole thing like clear water, clear with a hint of blue in the undertone of it. A hint of blue in the under _tow_ of it, in the way it draws MJ’s attention in.

MJ is a girl who often doesn’t listen, doesn’t hear, simply rejects your reality and substitutes her own. However, Pepper’s voice brooks no argument. And MJ, she can’t _not_ answer that call. She can’t just not speak up.

“Why are you guys okay with this?” she asks, voice a little small, a little uncertain.

Pepper and May share a look. May answers, and it’s just right. Of course, it’s May. She says, “Listen sweetie, Pep knew who you were from the beginning. You think she doesn’t have access to security tools to rival Stark’s? I hope that doesn’t freak you out, but I understand if it does; it did me, at first.”

Pepper nods, with a small smile.

May continues, “The thing is, we talked about it. Oh boy, did we ever talk about it, sweetness. But we concluded, in our infinite wisdom, that it wouldn’t be fair of us to decide what you want. Pepper and I both are white and have passed as straight for most of our lives. Neither of us has super powers, though I guess you could say we’re super-adjacent. And, it’s not fair of us to decide what you need in your life, to feel purposeful, to feel loved, to feel secure. And, above all else, the last thing we wanted was for you to go looking somewhere else, and get hurt.”

MJ lets out a shuddering breath at that, at the very idea. Pepper, watching her, cuts in.

“I’ll be honest with you, Michelle. I’m not attracted to kids. I love May here more than I would have thought possible, every wrinkle and wobbly bit she’s got. You are a very pretty girl, but for me… it’s about being needed. May, here, told me she needed to see how things are done first, before she’d feel comfortable taking our relationship to the next level. I agreed. And then you, you who must have recognized us right from the start, you reached out. And I decided the only thing better than providing for my sweet girl May and getting her a nice little doll to play with, would be helping out someone who has the potential to be so much more than a doll, if only the world would let her.”

It’s so much. It’s _too_ much.

She really didn’t want to embarrass herself by crying, but she just.

It’s. It’s what she and Ned and Peter have talked about a hundred times this year. How it’s so fucking _hard_ to be growing up and have the expectations others have for you suddenly expand, along with their suspiciousness of your motives. And, your ability to _meet_ those expectations doesn’t necessarily expand at the same time, so it’s like the whole world is crowding around the dinner table, asking you to pass the salt and the salt is _ten feet away_ and your arms won’t grow fast enough, and they’ve chained you to your seat, and damn, you were just trying to get some food in your mouth in the first place-

MJ’s having a panic attack. She knows this must be true, because May is telling her so, from somewhere above her head, which is pressed into the older woman’s stomach.

It’s long minutes of breathing through it, May’s hands skipping over her hair to rest instead along the top of her back, before MJ can really think straight. It’s been a long time since she’s _had_ a panic attack, because she’d reinvented herself when her dad had been assigned here, and the snark kept most bad things (and good things, too) far enough away from her that it wasn’t a problem.

But that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Being vulnerable. You can’t get that blissful feeling of being taken care of without admitting that you _need_ to be taken care of, in the first place.

MJ looks up at the other two women. “Listen, I know imma sound like every other teenager when I say this, but I feel like maybe I get it. Maybe I can be an adult about this. Because, honestly, I think tonight’s not the night. We need to talk some more about what you two need out of this, and I need to calm down so I can really listen. Passing the age of consent is all well and good, but I-” she stops, cuts herself off.

May has taken a seat while Pepper perches on the arm of the same chair and both of the women are listening patiently to her. It fills her with small, flickering warmth, like a tealight.

MJ continues with, “I just, I wanna prove myself to you, too; I wanna prove my maturity level. That’s why I sent the picture of my face, because I thought you didn’t know who I was and yes, I was afraid it might mean that I wouldn’t get what I want -- what I _still_ want -- but it was the right thing to do. It’s the right thing to respect others’ right to make their own choices and, if you want intimacy from them, to be ready to make yourself vulnerable in kind… isn’t it?”

It’s a difficult speech to make; it’s difficult for MJ to reveal so much of what she’s feeling.

May’s answering smile, and Pepper’s words make it so _so_ worth it, though.

“Of course, princess. You’re doing great. You’re perfect; you don't need to prove anything.”

And in the end it’s that praise and approval, which she has so desperately been craving, that gives her the strength, that parts the sea of crowded thoughts in her head and makes room for one of the most adult decisions MJ’s ever made.

She goes home. They call it off.

But, they make plans for next weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ship name is Red Hot 'Chelle May Peppers, and you can't change my mind.


End file.
